User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20151015060553/@comment-3135907-20160125190924

The young hare paused, briefly distracted by the view of the faraway glowing peak of Salamandastron, hit perfectly by piercing early morning rays. Feffle peered around the bleak landscape dotted with the occasional bush and shrubbery; his ruddy brown eyes narrowed, half out of suspicion and half to avoid the glare of the rising sun on the eastern horizon ahead. "Prob'ly some dawn beasties up an' getting th' old worm, eh wot?"